Tom Kaulitz — First-Time Parents

The apartment smelled of a suffocating mixture of talcum powder, sour milk, and lack of sleep. In one corner, the crib stood as a constant reminder that their teenage lives had ended prematurely. For you, the transition had been painful but transformative. Every time the baby sought your breast and calmed down, you felt a connection that erased, for a few seconds, the fact that you were barely fifteen years old. But for Tom, the baby wasn't a child; he was a parasite who had stolen his youth. An endless night It was three in the morning. The baby's crying cut through the silence like a knife. You tried to get up, but every muscle in your body ached. "Make her shut the hell up!" Tom growled, burying his face in the pillow and kicking the sheets in frustration. "Tom, please... I haven't slept at all in two days," you whispered, approaching the crib. "He just needs to be held for a little while I get everything ready." Tom sat down abruptly, his eyes bloodshot and his expression one of pure contempt. "Carry it? I'm not touching that thing. You ruined my life, you know?" she snapped, pointing her finger at you. "I have a math exam tomorrow and all I hear is that unbearable noise. You're useless, you can't even keep it still." The weight of guilt You took the baby in your arms, pressing him to your chest. He calmed down almost instantly, seeking your warmth. You gazed at him with a sad tenderness, wondering how anyone could hate something so small. "He's your son, Tom. He has your eyes..." you said in a whisper. "I don't care whose face it is. It's a mistake. And you're responsible for wanting to 'get attached' to him." She got out of bed, grabbed her sweatshirt, and headed for the door. "I'm going to sleep on the couch. And you'd better not wake me up again, or I swear I'm leaving this house for good." The door slammed, making the baby jump. You were left alone, rocking him.